


What Hits Him Hardest

by aspermoth



Category: Atop the Fourth Wall
Genre: Abduction, Body Horror, Disturbing Themes, Gen, Horror, Mutilation, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 06:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspermoth/pseuds/aspermoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Linkara hadn't known that Lord Vyce was watching his show. But he is. And now Vyce knows what hits him hardest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Hits Him Hardest

Linkara hadn't known. Hadn't even thought about it, really. The idea that Lord Vyce would realise that he had an online show, let alone watch it, had never even crossed his mind.

But he did.

Up in orbit, out of synch, at the bridge of his flagship, Vyce was watching, and Vyce was listening, and – worst of all – Vyce was learning.

But Linkara hadn't know that. He hadn't. If he had, he would never have said it. He would never have spoken those words.

But he did.

The Ninja Style Dancer was the first. He just vanished one day. No note, no explanation, nothing. One he was there, appearing with his cards when least expected, dancing to dubious Swedish songs about caramel or whatever it was, and the next, he wasn't. Then again, he _was_ a ninja. Surely he couldn't come to much harm, right?

But he did.

A week after he disappeared, Linkara and Liz found him lying abandoned in the gutter outside their apartment, silent and motionless. His arms and legs were limp and useless, like a puppet with the strings cut, the result of a spine broken beyond repair in three places, perhaps more. No more fighting. No more dancing. No more cue cards. The Ninja Style Dancer was trapped inside himself, unable to move, unable to communicate. Trapped.

And still Linkara hadn't known, hadn't realised what was going on, blinded by his immediate concerns for the Ninja. The idea that Vyce was responsible flitted through his mind and out again like a dream. He had more pressing concerns. He hadn't known.

But he would.

90's Kid was the next to go. There one day, gone the next, without a trace, leaving behind all his 90's Image comics to clutter up Linkara and Liz's spare room. And this time, Linkara knew that something, someone, Vyce, awaited 90's Kid. He began to dread the Kid's return. If his fate was to be anything like that of the Ninja's, Linkara did not want to see it.

But he would.

After a week had passed, Linkara and Liz once again found one of their own abandoned in the street. 90's Kid was slumped against the wall of their apartment building, face pale and blank, and for once in his life, silent. His arms and legs were gone, sawn away: instead of becoming limbs, the flesh of his upper arms and thighs descended seamlessly into plastic. Red plastic. Red plastic machine guns. Guns for arms, guns for legs, like his imaginary Blood Gun.

Linkara had known then what was happening, although not why. He and Liz guessed who would be next and tried to succeed where before they had failed, to protect the next one from the powers of Vyce. To protect Harvey Finevoice. Harvey must not be taken.

But he would.

However, he wasn't the next one to be taken. Instead, they took Pollo. It seemed to take them no time at all to carry him off: he was just whisked away like a breath in the night whilst Linkara and Liz alternated sleep and guarding Harvey. The little blue robot was there as always, working away at Vyce's ship. Then gone. Linkara hunted desperately through Pollo's work, looking for a way to save him.

But he couldn't.

And a week later, a box appeared on their doorstep, sealed with dark green tape. When Linkara opened it, he found three things: first, a mound of paperclips, a plethora of them, paperclips that shone with a bluish sheen under bright light; second, a clear case containing Pollo's mother board, his very brain, and two magnets, a case that would not break no matter what Linkara used on it; and finally, a single red bulb. Pollo's eye.

Linkara had learnt what was happening by this point. He knew, and he knew it full well, redoubling his efforts to protect Harvey, desperate to save at least one of his friends, terrified of what would happen if he failed. He and Liz never left Harvey alone. Linkara had to save Harvey. He had to.

But he couldn't.

He and Liz were both there when Vyce's Shades came, came for Harvey in numbers greater than Linkara had ever seen, and all three fought against them, Linkara hardest of all. He was the hero, dammit. He had to protect them. He _had_ to. It was his job. It was his fault that they were in danger. He had to protect them from Vyce and the Shades and the horrors that awaited them.

But he couldn't.

Harvey was returned a week later, left curled in the foetal position on their balcony, whimpering softly in the back of his throat. His fingers had been snapped off at the root with bolt cutters or something similar, clipped like fingernails to render his tommy gun harmless. But worse, far worse, was what he was trying to hide beneath his digit-less palms. His lips had been sliced clean off and the bleeding flesh cleaved back together, sewn and sealed into nothing but smooth blank skin and a thin pale ridge of scar tissue. His mouth had been erased; his voice, stolen.

And then only Iron Liz was left unharmed. Linkara stayed by her side night and day, forgoing sleep, food, anything that could distract him. He needed to be able to protect Liz. If he could only save one of his loved ones, only protect one person out of all the people around him, he needed it to be her. Vyce would not get Liz. Vyce could not get Liz.

But he did.

The Shades came in the night, under cover of darkness, led by the one foe Linkara had hoped never to see again: Mechakara. They moved silently through the apartment and managed to take him and Liz by surprise. And he and Liz fought, oh how they fought, but in the end, they succumbed. Linkara expected to die at Mechakara's hands, face once again cut open and bleeding, body covered in bruises. And when he was left, aching and bloody and very much alive on the floor, he felt sure that he would never see Iron Liz again.

But he would.

They left her in their bedroom a week later, lying naked on their bed, her blood pooled thickly on their sheets, her eyes staring up at him unseeing and clouded. Her throat had been slashed to the bone, gaping wide and red like a second mouth, and her chest ripped open, ribs cracked apart like a pair of gates to reveal her lungs were ripped and torn and shredded beyond recognition. Her heart had been torn out and was resting red and steaming on her stomach, over her belly button. There was a letter "V" carved into her face from her left temple down across her cheek to the point of her chin and back up to her right temple. Thick red lines of open flesh. So much blood.

Linkara lay down next to her on the bloodied sheets and buried his face against her shoulder until her skin turned cold beneath his. This was his fault. The Ninja paralysed, 90's Kid maimed, Pollo obliterated, Harvey mutilated and now Liz – he couldn't find the words. They were drowned in the thick pool of guilt at the base of his skull. His fault. This was his fault. The result of Vyce finding what hits him hardest. The result of his careless words. How he wished he could take them back.

But he couldn't.

 _"Go after their families and loved ones…"_


End file.
